


Grantaire Wears Makeup

by Scientia_Fantasia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientia_Fantasia/pseuds/Scientia_Fantasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras discovers there’s a little more to Grantaire’s self-consciousness than he originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grantaire Wears Makeup

“I just don’t see why it’s strange,” Enjolras said, gesturing over his second cup of coffee that morning, “Face-paint is apparently fine, and costume makeup, but if a man wears too _little_ of it then somehow that’s socially unacceptable. What’s the problem with putting a little black line around your eye? I think someone did once explain this to me, actually…something about the patriarchy trivializing anything to do with fashion…”

 

He shook his head exasperated at the subject, and looked up at Grantaire, who was leaning on the counter across from him.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Grantaire blinked, momentarily surprised by the break in Enjolras’s tirade. “About men wearing makeup?” he said. “Well, you’re right, of course. Society should have no say in how much or how little someone, male or otherwise, modifies the look of their face. I mean, I—“

 

He paused for a moment, catching himself. Enjolras frowned slightly, not really knowing what the pause was for. Though he was curious, he just waited patiently to see if Grantaire would continue, or simply dismiss it as a mistake.

 

“I…I wear makeup.”

 

“Oh, do you?” Enjolras said, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you with it on.”

 

Grantaire smiled slightly, shaking his head.

 

“Ah, actually,” he said, “you’ve never seen me with it off.”

 

Enjolras stared at him for a second. Then he sat up and leaned closer, examining the other’s face—Grantaire graciously leaned down to give him a better look, turning his eyes down to the cup on the counter.

 

Enjolras was nearly about to ask to make sure Grantaire wasn’t just playing some joke on him, when he noticed that one side of his face did indeed look a bit…powdery. But just one side, under his eye and all the way around to his ear.

 

“Oh,” said Enjolras, Grantaire taking his cue to straighten up again. “I…it’s not any of my business, but I am curious.”

 

“You’re my boyfriend, of course it’s your business.”

 

“It’s your body. It’s only my business if you want it to be.”

 

Grantaire smiled, and leaned down to place his forehead against Enjolras’s. “I like it when my body is your business,” he said, before kissing him briefly and standing back up. “Ah…I think it would be easier just to show you. C’mon,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, and walked out from behind the counter. Enjolras abandoned his coffee in lieu of following him, and they walked to the bathroom.

 

Enjolras leaned on the doorway as Grantaire stood in front of the sink, dabbing something onto a rag before putting it to his face.

 

“…um,” Grantaire went, momentarily frozen. “I think this might be easier if you turn around.”

 

Enjolras nodded, and did so. He just listened to the occasionally interrupted stream of sink water, and when it was turned off, he waited. And waited. Until, finally, Grantaire spoke up.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice shaky, “You can look.”

 

Enjolras turned around, carefully, until he was facing Grantaire again. Then he walked over, placing his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders.

 

The makeup had been covering up a mark on Grantaire’s face. Something that Enjolras thought looked something like a stain—a dark purple blotch spread from under his eye, down the side of his face…a few smaller patches of color showed on his nose and almost down to his mouth.

 

Enjolras gave what he hoped was a comforting smile, trying to meet Grantaire’s eyes, but the other man was resolutely looking away.

 

“Is it…a birthmark?” Enjolras asked.

 

Grantaire just nodded.

 

“…Was that why you didn’t want me to touch your face?”

 

Grantaire glanced up at him that time.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Would it be alright if I touched it now, then?”

 

Grantaire thought for a moment, before nodding again.

 

So Enjolras moved his hands up to place around Grantaire’s jaw, thumbs brushing along the sides of his face. And Enjolras kissed him; his mouth, his nose, then either side of his face, before dropping his hands again. This made Grantaire smile, at least, however momentarily.

 

“It’s your decision in the end, of course,” said Enjolras, “but you don’t need to cover it up when we’re together, if you don’t want to. I don’t mind either way.”

 

“But…it’s hideous.”

 

Enjolras shook his head.

 

“It’s just a marking, Grantaire. Like freckles. Have you seen Feuilly’s shoulders in the summer? He gets patches of freckles at least half as big as your birthmark on them every year. And I don’t really find that strange. Do you?”

 

“This isn’t freckles.”

 

“No,” Enjolras said, sighing, “it’s not. I know you don’t see it that way, and I know a lot of people who used to be in your life didn’t see it that way, either. But…that is how I see it. I know that doesn’t really change much, but I just want you to know. I won’t tease you about it, and I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to. Okay?”

 

Grantaire nodded a few times. Then he stepped over and wrapped his arms around Enjolras, burying his face in his shoulder.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

 

Enjolras hugged him back, petting Grantaire’s hair lightly.

 

“Of course.”


End file.
